Shackles and Chains
by LilPK
Summary: *SPOILERS* Jesse isn't safe. With her dying breath, Lydia made a deal. His life and skills in exchange for her daughters safety. But who bought him?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All original characters and such belong to their originators. I do not own them, although I dearly wish that I could have sat in the writers room as the amazingness that is Breaking Bad was created.

Author's note: I realize that I am nowhere near as amazing as Vincent and all the other writers on Breaking Bad, but I seriously loved the show and wish there was more fanfiction generated by it. So this is my paltry attempt at trying to create some of the scenes that have played in my head since the conclusion of the series.

Reviews are nice, but not sure how seriously I will focus on this since it's just a spur of the moment kind of development. So will see.

Shackles and Chains

Chapter 1

A black SUV with tinted windows rolled into the Crossroads Motel parking lot. It had the same effect as a light being turned on in a cockroach infested room. Doors slammed and shades were drawn but beady little eyes watched from every crevice.

A tall figure stepped from the vehicle.

He had closely cropped dark hair and eyes that squinted at the sun before browsing over the motel. His clothes had a higher fiber count than any of the sheets. They fit him in such a way that could only be professional.

He walked past the man in the hall, passed out in his own piss, and stopped in front of room 211. Without hesitation he pulled out a lock pick and opened the door quietly. He entered.

Jesse lay in dirty cargo pants sprawled on the bed, dead to the world. Crushed beer cans and empty bottles of alcohol littered the floor as well as cigarette stubs and balled up paper bags from fast food joints. He looked starved and broken. Old scars stretched across his back over gaunt ribs.

It was Wendy's room, but she was out making her daily bread.

It had been 24 hours. 24 hours since Heisenberg had walked back into the world and blown it to pieces. And the vultures were circling. Russian investors were nervous, and that was not good for business. Lydia made one good decision in the moments before her death. She made a deal.

Leon looked over the scrawny boy and had a moment of doubt, that this kid could really make the purest meth on the market. But, if Lydia was weighing the security of her daughter against the value of an emaciated boy, then she must have a reason.

He shook the boy, but Jesse barely responded, too tired, and too drunk to realize that another cage was closing in around him.

Leon grabbed what looked to be the matching filth ridden shirt to Jesse's pants and pulled it over him. He'd figure out new clothes later. His priority was movement as soon as possible before other mobs or DEA started sniffing around the ashes of the nazi compound. It was doubtful that anyone else even knew about Jesse, but, Leon preferred to err on the side of caution.

No one stopped him as he carried a limp Jesse to his car and buckled him down so he was restrained and lying on the back seat.

He made a phone call as he peeled out of the parking lot. Seeing the boy made him realize that there would need to be some changes to his plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All original characters and such belong to their originators. I do not own them, although I dearly wish that I could have sat in the writers room as the amazingness that is Breaking Bad was created.

Shackles and Chains

Chapter 2

Jesse groaned and rolled to the side of the bed. The sun shining through the window was blinding him and agitating the little monster with a hammer behind his eyes. He groaned again and felt his stomach roll. He scrambled to the edge of the bed just in time to vomit what little he had in his stomach onto the carpet.

His hand reached out trying to find one of the bottles he had left on the nightstand so he could wash his mouth out and sink back into oblivion, but his hand hit air.

Jesse dragged his eyes open and tried to focus.

There was no bottle.

He blinked.

The lamp looked funny.

His head turned as he looked to the other side of the bed, but that nightstand was also devoid of any bottles.

The strangeness of the lamp hit him again and he tried to grasp what was so strange about it.

It was tall with lacquered gold and the lamp shade was so white it made him wince. Nothing at the Crossroads motel had been so stark white since it opened.

It took him longer than it should of to finally look around the room.

He was definitely not in Wendy's room.

"Good morning Jesse"

Jesse bolted backwards crashing into the headboard as he flipped onto his back and tried not to throw up again. He was shaking as his eyes tried to look beyond the glare of the sun and see who had spoken.

A man was standing next to the window with his hands folded over his chest. He was big, and his clothes set Jesse on edge. They reminded him of Gus, too perfectly tailored for New Mexico.

He clenched his fists and looked around before grabbing one of the lamps and pointing it at the man while he rose to his legs shakily.

"Where the fuck am I!? And who the fuck are you!?"

The man didn't even flinch, he just kept staring at Jesse.

His lips drew back into a smile as he leaned forward. "Rule number one, no cursing".

Jesse realized his jaw was hanging when he snapped it shut. His teeth ground together in a sneer.

"Fuck you Bitch!"

He hurled the lamp at the man and made a dash for the door.

An arm sidelined him, catching him around the gut and taking him air borne before hurling him back to the bed where he immediately rolled and dry heaved over the edge.

When he caught his breath he looked up slowly. The man had pulled over a chair and was sitting across from him as if nothing had happened.

"Now Jesse, I realize you are quite hung over so I will ignore that outburst, but any more behavior like that and we will talk about consequences. Nod if you understand."

Jesse managed a jerky half nod as he tried to comprehend what was happening. The last thing he knew he had been wallowing in drugs and alcohol trying to forget the past 6 months of his life for a few days before planning to head out of town. Wendy had gone out to ask Badger and Skinny Pete if they knew what happened to Brock.

Leon nodded. "Good, now, I would like you to get cleaned up, the bathroom is over there." He pointed to an open door.

Jesse struggled back onto his feet and managed a swaying shuffle to the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it before sinking to the ground. His head fell into his hands as he tried to come to terms with it all. He didn't know where he was, who had him, or what they wanted with him.

He let out a choked half sob and laugh when he realized that all this time he was just in a pair of clean blue boxer briefs that he did not recognize. He shivered and looked around the bathroom. A towel and a fresh pair of boxer briefs were on the toilet along with some bottles of soap and shampoo.

He pulled himself up on the sink and tried to think. He wasn't a planner like Mr. White and he had no clue what was going on.

A fist banged against the door.

"You have 20 minutes Jesse, if you're not out by then I'll come in a get you out".

Jesse opened his mouth to curse him out, but stopped.

He turned on the hot water.

It was strange to see all the filth wash away, he wished it was that easy to get rid of memories. He'd made it back to town and couldn't think of where to go, the motel had just been the first place he could reach after the car ran out of gas. Wendy had said he could stay for a few days and had even let him have some of her stash. He'd only had a few hundred bucks that had been jammed in the dash board. He hadn't known what to do, he just knew he wanted to sleep, so he drank as much as he could and passed out. He hadn't even thought of taking a shower or getting something to eat, he just wanted to forget.

Todd, the sound of his neck when it snapped.

The bang on the door jerked him back to the present.

"5 minutes Jesse".

He scrambled to finish up and yanked on the clean briefs then wrapped the towel around his waist.

He stared at the door.

His hand shook as he unlocked it and he stepped out.

The vomit was gone and there was a cleaning woman scrubbing the floor. There were two more men in the room with the first. The younger of the two motioned to a chair just out in the middle of the room. Jesse uneasily sat. The older one started to examine him while making a few comments to the tall man in another language. It sounded like Russian.

He pulled out a needle and Jesse tensed while moving to stand. A firm hand pushed him back down and held him there with a tight grip on his shoulder.

"What the he—"

The hand squeezed tightly, cutting him off as he yelped and grabbed for the hand that seemed to be digging into his nerves.

"Rule number one, remember?"

Jesse nodded quickly and the pressure eased slightly.

"This is a doctor. He is just going to examine you and take a few blood samples so he will know if you need any medications after your ordeal. Understand?"

Jesse nodded again and the hand let go. He looked up at the tall man.

"Who are you?"

A few words were uttered in Russian to the doctor before he answered.

"Leon".

The doctor continued to poke him and ask him to breath while listening to him. He drew a few samples of blood, checked his blood pressure and temperature, then nodded and spoke some Russian words to Leon before leaving.

Jesse's leg was bouncing by this time with nervous energy as he tried to figure out what to do.

Leon and the younger man were still in the room.

The younger man had a case with him that he was unfolding.

Leon eased into Jesse's personal space and addressed the other young man in Russian while motioning to Jesse's head and face. He turned back to Jesse.

"This man is a barber, he is going to get you cleaned up."

Jesse opened his mouth, but Leon held up a finger.

"When you look like a human being, we will sit down and talk."

Jesse tried not to flinch as his beard was clipped and he was left with shadowed stubble. The sheers sliced repeatedly through hair and it fell in waves until he was left with a short ruffled look on top and sharp sides. It wasn't a bad look.

The cleaning lady had gone and the barber left after accepting a tip.

Leon opened the door and motioned for Jesse to pass through.

They were in probably the fanciest hotel room Jesse had ever seen. He was sure it was a suite or pent house or something because they were standing in a large living room with a dining area and kitchen. There was even a fire place and a giant TV hanging over the mantel.

Lean pointed to a chair at the table where a meal was laid.

"Sit, eat".

Jesse wanted to yell, to argue, to throw something…but he sat. He'd been here before, and if 6 long months as a prisoner had taught him anything it was that he had to wait for the right moment, wait for their guard to be down before he tried anything.

There was a bowl of soup, a cup of sliced up fruit, a roll, and a tall glass of water.

Leon sat down across from him and pulled out his phone. His eyes darted across the screen and his fingers slid in different directions over it.

"I want you to try and eat what you can, at least half, and then we will talk".

Jesse reached for the glass of water, but his hand stopped at the sound of Leon's voice.

"And, if you throw anything or break anything, I will personally shovel that entire meal down your throat, and if you throw it up, I'll make you eat it till it stays down."

He looked up and locked onto Jesse's eyes.

"Do you understand?"

Jesse's outstretched hand shook as he nodded.

Leon's eyes narrowed as he examined Jesse's face before his gaze dropped back down to his phone.

Jesse carefully took the glass of water. He had to hold it with both hands to keep it from slipping. He wasn't sure if he was shaking from the drugs, alcohol, or something else. But there was no way he was dropping that freaking glass.

He managed to choke down half the soup, a few bits of fruit and the glass of water before he felt his stomach protest. He grasped the table tightly and took some breaths to calm himself. He didn't want to have to eat his own vomit off the carpet, because he didn't doubt that Leon would make him do just that if he threw up.

Leon nodded and slipped his phone back into his suit jacket.

"Now, I'm going to talk, and you are going to listen. When I'm done you can ask whatever you like, but I can't promise any answers."

Jesse wrapped a hand around his rolling stomach and nodded.

"You were sold".

Jesse shivered.

"Lydia made a deal before she died, you were her bargaining chip. Supposedly, you are the last person alive who can cook quality grade blue meth, and she let us know how to motivate you. We know the Nazis were threatening the boy Brock to keep you in line, but we also know about your family."

Jesse's head shot up, his eyes were wide and his heart seemed to stop in his chest.

"We know about your mother, father, and your little brother. We know where they are at all times and we will not hesitate to use them to make you behave."

Leon cocked his head to the side and his eyes studied the little junkie in front of him.

"But, I think your smart enough that it won't have to come to that. I also understand that the Nazis treatment of you was…extreme. Trust that while in my care you will be treated as humanely as possibly. The longer you go without incident and while obeying the rules, the more liberties you will be allowed. I have already set up a trust fund for the boy Brock and his grandparents were very happy to find out he had been excepted into a very prestigious and private school. Call it, a show of good faith. I know you won't be a problem Jesse and I'm willing to reward you and give you a share of your cut. Eventually, when you've gained my trust, I may even allow you to have your own life. But, in the meantime, I will be your minder and body guard, a big brother or angel on your shoulder, making sure that you stick to the straight and narrow."

Leon glanced at his wristwatch then Jesse.

"Any questions?"

Jesse thought he had snapped at the compound. Day after day of being beaten then dragging his feet back and forth with that cattle cable making meth, just over and over, with no hope for an ending. He had been so ready for death, but he'd held on for revenge. But now, he was so tired of it all. He didn't care how nice the prison was, there was no way fucking way in hell he was getting stuck in another one.

His voice was raspy and he coughed before he got out a clear sentence. He let his head drop,"When can I get some clothes". He sounded drained and tired.

Leon's lips twitched downward while he studied Jesse's slumped body. "They'll be here shortly, as will our ride to the airport. We will be leaving as soon as your paperwork arrives. I took the liberty of assigning you a new identity, just to make things easier. You're now Mikhail Mayakovsky, fondly known as Misha. Legally, my new little brother".

Leon smiled at the look of shock on Jesse's face.

"Oh, you also have a slight mental disorder which renders me your legal guardian. Just extra insurance, in case you end up at a police department or hospital. They run your prints now, and 'ping!', you pop up as a mental patient who is a compulsive liar, among a plethora of other testimonial damaging disorders. So, your start screaming in the middle of a public place, and I have every medical right to sedate you. Am I clear?"

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!"

A man, who could only be called muscle, walked in with a box. Leon nodded to him and motioned to the table where he set down the box.

Leon pulled out a soft package and slid on the table towards Jesse. "Get dressed, we leave in ten".

To be continued…

Author's note: Hope you are enjoying! I still don't know quite where this story is going, but I have a few ideas for some future chapters. I don't mind ideas or input since this is me just messing around.


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